The Bear and the Phoenix
by helium lost
Summary: Before the royal intrigue, plots to gain power, and mysterious disappearances, there was an almost fairytale–like romance between the Crown Prince and the minor princess. Ozai x Ursa.
1. I: Witnessed by the Ex

**The Bear and the Phoenix**  
. helium lost .

**Author's Notes:** The title is most likely a temporary one, so expect it to change. Anyway, here's my contribution to the massively underappreciated Ozai/Ursa ship :P This is being written for the 33-proposals challenge at Livejournal, so by the end of this, hopefully, the fic will be 33 chapters and somewhere around 100K words long. Eek—it's a daunting prospect, but it'll be great when I'm done, eh:D

Anywho, be warned that there are original characters, although they don't really play _that_ much of a prominent role. ;)

* * *

**I**  
_Witnessed by the Ex_

* * *

Prince Ruoko, although not a bad man (not at all—very nice, very pleasant, very well-mannered), was not _quite_ the husband that Princess Ursa was looking for. True, as a princess of only a minor principality of the Fire Nation, she didn't exactly have that much choice, but—well, imagining a long and fruitful life with this man was a bit like imagining getting hairs pulled out of her head, one by one. It, to say the least, simply didn't excite her. At best, it was a horrifying thought.

"Oh, Princess Ursa, I would pluck the stars from the heavens for you! I would tame rivers and make them flow by your window so that you could see the sun glittering off the rivers' sweet waters when you wake; I would plant hundreds of trees if you desired an orchard!" He kneeled and kissed her hand. "Princess Ursa, I would call the moon to serenade you; I would pull strands of gossamer thread from the night sky and weave you a cloak; I would harness the sun and have the most beautiful dress in all of the world to be made for you. Oh, Princess Ursa, my love for you is undying, is timeless, is immortal, is…"

Princess Ursa sighed and looked away from the man. He wasn't bad-looking, and he was from a principality that was a bit more well-off than hers; he had no history of mental or physical defects; he was overflowing with passion for her… yet…

He stood and twirled, spreading his arms out before her. "Princess Ursa! Once we are married, I will have a palace made for you from the finest wood of all the Earth Kingdom, decorated with paintings and scrolls by only the most talented artists on this earth! Cities will be constructed in your name; I will instate a Day for the Celebration of Our Empress Ursa!"

Princess Ursa sighed and massaged her temple. Well, at least he was better than that Prince Aoko, who had been married off to her sister, Princess Dae… _That_ man had a head so bloated, so filled with hot air, that she was (quite frankly) surprised that he hadn't yet lifted up and soared off into the sky. Poor Dae—cooped up in the palace for twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, with that man… It was a good thing that Dae was so patient; she herself would have killed him by now (or at least put a hole through his head—maybe all that ego would drain out that way).

"Oh, Princess Ursa—"

Princess Ursa frowned and drew back from Prince Ruoko. "I'm sorely sorry, but I have some, err, matters to attend to… Please forgive me." She straightened her hair and brushed a wrinkle out of her dress. "As you know—the annual ball is being held tonight at the Fire Nation capital… You're going, aren't you? Anyway, I really must begin to get ready."

His smile dropped and shattered on the floor. Her reached out for Princess Ursa's hand, and she sighed and let him grip it and caress it.

"Darling! But it's only ten o'clock in the morning! The ball doesn't start until seven!"

She sighed. "Yes, yes—but, well, it takes a long time for me to get ready. I must look my best tonight."

"But darling, you are already the most beautiful woman on the face of this earth! Your eyes shine like the scales of the jeweled fish swimming in the clear waters by Kyoshi Island; your skin is white and flawless like the finest Fire Nation porcelain; your hair is the deepest, most luxurious ebony-black, darker than coal, yet brilliant like the sun gleaming off silver; your—"

"Yes, yes," Princess Ursa said impatiently, then pried her hand away from his touching fingers. "That's what _you_ say, at least—Father and Mother, however, do not agree so readily. I _really_ must be off now. Father and Mother want me to look my best to attract more suitors." She saw the crestfallen look on Prince Ruoko's face and sighed again—how many times had she sighed today, anyway? "Not that, of course, you're not a fantastic suitor—" She winced at the grin that spread itself across his face. She needed to be less considerate. "—but Mother and Father want me to, well, keep my opportunities open. We are—after all—not yet engaged—" She rolled her eyes as the grin was wiped off his face again. "—but I'm sure that Mother and Father will have me marry you; after all, most of the Princes at the ball will most likely already be betrothed." The grin on this man's face could show itself and hide itself faster than the old geezers playing _mah-jong_ could show and hide their tiles; it was rather unnerving.

"Look—I'd love to stay longer—but I truly _must_ get going. It takes hours to do my hair correctly, you know." (Total lie—well, all right, the longest it ever took was two and a half hours, but that was only because the hairdresser was incompetent and couldn't find the brushes and hairpins, and when she _did_ manage to find the hairpins, she always put them into her hair incorrectly, so that sections would fall right after they were elaborately twisted and pinned up again. Needless to say, Princess Ursa never saw _her_ again.)

With that, she pulled herself away from Prince Ruoko (breathing a sigh of relief once she was well out of earshot) and strode down the hall, breaking into a run once she got around the corner. She leaned her back against a wall and breathed heavily. There was no _way_ that she would be able to stand years and years of royal life with that man… Let's see, she was twenty-two now, and he was twenty-one… Her maternal grandmother was sixty-one years old and her maternal grandfather was seventy-five… and her paternal grandmother was an amazing eighty-six years old, while her paternal grandfather had died when he was eighty-two… Well, it looked like she would be living for another sixty years, at least, judging by those figures. Sixty years with _that_ man? She let the back of her head hit the wall. _Sixty years!_ She shuddered.

No, she _needed_ to find a new man at this ball… All right, so about ninety-nine percent of the princes had already been betrothed, but it wasn't _too_ late, right? Okay, so she was a bit older than most of the other girls (Dae had gotten married when she was seventeen), but she still had a chance, right? She had to! There must be at least _one_ prince there who wasn't married… All right, admittedly, he'd be a nobody, but a nobody was better than Prince Ruoko. She shuddered again and made her way to the dressing room. What she told Prince Ruoko wasn't a _complete_ lie; she _did_ have to get ready—although it wouldn't take nine hours. She could read a book for the rest of the time, maybe. Anything to get away from that prince.

She slipped into the dressing room and found the maids busy powdering her mother. She sighed and took a seat, picking at a few stray threads on her sleeve. How did her robes _always_ manage to have threads sticking out of them?

"Ursa, darling, is that you?" her mother called out, eyes closed as the puffs dabbed at her face.

"Yes, mother."

"Where have you been? The seamstress, silly girl, managed to lose your measurements halfway through making your dress, so you'll need to be remeasured as quickly as possible." She cracked open an eyelid and glanced at her. "And your hair! You haven't had it washed, have you? Well, you'll need to do that, too." She sighed. "Where have you been all morning? I tried sending out some maids to tell you about the seamstress, but they never managed to find you."

Ursa sighed. "Sorry, Mother—Prince Ruoko dropped by to visit."

Her mother laughed, then coughed after she inhaled some of the powder. "That boy? Ursa, I don't know why you continue to indulge him."

Ursa stiffened. "Mother, _he's_ the one always coming to _our_ palace! It's not like I want to see him, you know."

"Then tell him off!"

"I can't do that, Mother!" Ursa said, exasperated. "It's—well, it's not nice. And I don't want to make myself—or you, or Father, or any of us—look bad."

Her mother rolled her eyes. "That boy… Trust me, Ursa, I bet he's _tiny_. Or, even worse, that he can't even get it up."

"Mother!" Ursa squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't really want to think about that right now. Especially not when it concerns Prince Ruoko, of all people." She reached over and poured herself a cup of steaming tea, then took a sip.

The maids stepped back from her mother's face and let her sit up and examine herself in the mirror. She turned her head from side to side and checked that the coverage was even and that no blemishes were showing. "If you marry him, trust me, you two won't have any kids at all. Do you realize how sad that would be? Your father, on the other hand—well, there's a reason why you have five brothers and sisters, darling." She grinned slyly.

Ursa choked on her sip of tea, then coughed. One of the maids rushed over to pat Ursa on the back; she sputtered, then choked out, "_Mother!_"

"I'm only telling you the truth." Her mother touched a spot on her cheek, then said, "A little more here—I can still see that hideous spot."

Ursa frowned as the seamstress walked in with a handful of tape measures. "You don't _need_ to tell me, you know." She took off her robes and stood in her underclothes as the maid began to re-measure her.

"It's for your own good, sweetie." The maids put down the puffs and reached for the makeup box, pulling out tins of rouge and smaller brushes.

Ursa spread her arms and let the seamstress measure around her bust. She rolled her eyes as the maids began to apply the rouge to her mother's cheeks. "Mother knows best, huh?"

"You got it."

* * *

Seven hours later (three agonizing hours of makeup and four agonizing hours of hairstyling—turned out that her hair needed to be much, much more elaborate for this ball than she had ever had it, and she was now carrying what felt like five tons of hair pins and ornaments on her head), Princess Ursa, dressed in fine robes, with her face made up to be absolutely flawless, her hair rising in delicate buns and curls on her head, and her feet squeezed into small shoes, was sitting in the courtyard with nothing to do. Her mother had forbidden her to read ("You always rub your eyes when you read—you're going to mess up your makeup!") and to feed the turtle-ducks ("You're going to get your robes wet!"). She had no choice but to sit in the courtyard and watch the musicians play pieces that she'd already heard hundreds of times already.

She sighed and restrained herself from leaning her head back against the tree (as her hair might get tangled in the bark), then idly picked at her fingernails. The sun was beginning to set, casting a red-orange glow across the sky, turning the clouds a brilliant pink color. The sky was already darkening as the first stars twinkled out from the blue-violet canvas.

"Ursa, darling!"

Ursa turned around and saw her mother waving at her.

"Ursa, it's time to go. Come on—the carriage is waiting!"

Ursa nodded and picked up the hems of her robes, walking across the grass to meet her mother. Finally—time to get out of the palace! The palace was, admittedly, not a bad place to be, but it could get boring after months of confinement… She walked briskly alongside her mother, through the halls and to the front gate, where a fine carriage being drawn by four horses was waiting. The two of them climbed in and sat beside each other.

"Will Father be there?" Ursa asked as the horses began their trot.

"Of course. Hopefully, he will have successfully sealed that trade deal with the capital… or else two weeks of negotiating will have been for naught." Her mother sighed. "I really hope that it went well—we need that trade deal."

Ursa nodded. "And… Mother, do you think there will be princes there that haven't yet been betrothed? I honestly don't think that I can stand even another day with Prince Ruoko!"

Her mother laughed. "Well, to tell you the truth, that boy isn't _that_ bad. He is, after all, still a boy, and still immature. Why, when I married your father, he was the same way—but he got better over the years, and look where we are now. Maybe he'll get better, too—maybe you'll fall in love."

Ursa scoffed. "Are you kidding me?"

Her mother shrugged. "At least he loves you—better to have a man who loves you than a man who doesn't, right?"

Ursa frowned. "But _Prince Ruoko_—"

Her mother laughed and patted her on the shoulder. "Sweetie, don't worry—there are plenty of princes there. And besides—I heard the Crown Prince is still single and looking, you know," she said, then winked. Ursa rolled her eyes.

"Like he'll pay any attention to me! He'll probably have dozens of richer and prettier princesses hanging off of him."

Her mother wagged a finger at her and shook her head. "Now, don't talk about yourself that way, darling. You're pretty, you're smart, you're charismatic, and, most of all, you're Ursa. Now get those silly thoughts out of your head. You have to be confident! _Then_ he'll notice you."

"I guess so…" She looked out the window and watched as the countryside rolled past. Within ten or fifteen minutes, they were passing through the village; people were craning their necks out from their houses and watching as the carriage passed by. The _clip-clop_ of the horses' hooves rang loud and clear on the cobblestone streets of the village as people tried to gain a glimpse of the princess or the empress—they had never seen them; they were usually inside the palace (although they _had_ heard that the two of them were very beautiful—it was a shame that none of them would even _think_ about marrying peasants…).

Ursa sighed and attempted to sleep, but it was difficult to do so, since she was unable to lean her head against the window or against the back of the chair; it was too much of a risk to have her hair messed up now. Instead, she let her head hang at an uncomfortable angle and closed her eyes. It would take perhaps two more hours to get to the capital, and she would rather not spend the time staring off into space. Eventually, the rocking of the carriage lulled her to a shallow sleep.

Two hours later, they were at the Fire Nation capital's Royal Palace. Ursa groggily shook herself awake and blinked her eyes a couple time. She covered a yawn, then looked outside the window and gasped. There were dozens and dozens of carriages—hundreds, maybe. It was hard to believe that there were this many people coming. She nervously got down from the carriage with her mother, then walked beside her to the open gates.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, she found herself—once again—with Prince Ruoko.

It was very difficult to resist the temptation to rub her temples (she might smear her makeup). In fact, it was like trying to force the sun not to rise.

"Princess! We shall dance the night away, you and me, like two beautiful cranes…"

She looked at the ballroom floor. There were only a few couples dancing at the moment, but more and more couples were beginning to join them. She saw some highly dissatisfied princesses and sympathized with them—they looked as if they'd rather be anywhere but here, with the idiot of a prince that they were betrothed to. Most likely, the only reason why they were here were to pay their respects to the Crown Prince and his family.

"Now, Princess," said Prince Ruoko, standing above her and breaking her gaze, "shall we dance?"

Ursa frowned and stood, giving her hand to Ruoko, who kissed it and smiled at her.

"All right."

She let herself be led to the floor, and sighed as she felt Prince Ruoko's clumsy hands come to a rest at her waist. They began to dance as the music played in the background. She winced. This dance was excruciating—when would it finally be over? All right, they had just started dancing, but still… Not only was Prince Ruoko, to put it gently, horrible at dancing, but this song was beginning to get on her nerves, as well; that fiddle was just too high-pitched for her tastes. She sighed and glanced at all the other couples on the ballroom floor—they all seemed to be having a good time. Yet… She sighed again, rolling her eyes at the fact that Prince Ruoko didn't seem to be paying any attention to her reactions and frustrated sighs at all.

At long last, the song ended with the wavering note of a flute, and Princess Ursa parted from Prince Ruoko. Prince Ruoko grinned, then gently kissed Princess Ursa's hand.

"Wait here, darling… I'll get us some drinks."

Princess Ursa rolled her eyes. "I'm not thirsty," she said, but he had already walked off to the banquet table. She sighed and began to walk back toward the tables, but she felt an unfamiliar hand seize hers. She whirled around and found herself face-to-face with the Crown Prince, who was looking straight into her eyes with a solemn look on his face.

"May I have this dance?" he asked in a soft voice as the first notes of the next song began to play.

"I—" she said, blushing, then recalled the words of her mother and straightened up, attempting to put on a serious, confident expression. "…Yes, please."

The Crown Prince raised her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on it, sending chills up her spine. This man—Prince Ruoko had kissed her hand dozens of times, and she had never gotten this feeling before. He put his hand on her waist—a firm but not rough grip—and another shiver went up her spine. She was thankful for her robes; if they didn't have long sleeves, everyone would have been able to see the goosebumps on her arms. And, to think, she was getting so worked up and all he had done was kiss her hand and touch her waist… She smiled and tentatively leaned into him as he began to lead her in a dance.

A few moments into the dance, he leaned down and murmured into her ear (sending more chills throughout her—this guy was something, all right), "Tell me, do you know my name?"

She rolled her eyes and said (forgetting all the proper, correct ways to talk to princes), "Of course—you're Ozai, the Crown Prince. Anyone who doesn't know is an idiot."

He raised an eyebrow as he gazed into her eyes. "Looks like you're not an idiot, then."

She bit her lip and blushed. A smirk crossed his face.

"Tell me… What's your name?"

She inhaled sharply, then looked straight back into his eyes and said, "Ursa."

"Ursa…" he said, savoring the taste of her name on his tongue as he glanced up at the ceiling, tilting his head back as if to swallow the syllables. A moment of silence passed as they continued to dance, him leading and her following. He finally looked back down at her and smiled, a small smile that only touched the edges of his lips. "I'll remember that."

She smiled and leaned in closer to him. "You better."

"Impertinent wench," he murmured, and she stiffened, but a soft, low laugh escaped his lips and her smile widened as he brought her closer, pressing her chest to his. All too soon, the song ended, and Ursa let escape a small sigh, but Prince Ozai gave her hand a tiny squeeze.

"May I have this dance?"

Princess Ursa looked up and saw Prince Ruoko (back with a furious and hurt expression on his face, and without drinks) standing beside them. The smile was wiped off her face and she frowned, preparing to part from the Crown Prince—but the Crown Prince held on to her tight.

"No," the Crown Prince said, softly but firmly, a sharp glint in his eyes, expression cold. Princess Ursa opened her mouth but found herself unable to say anything. Did the Crown Prince…? She pinched herself hard under her robes and winced, holding back a curse. This was no dream, all right… Prince Ruoko slinked off, sulking, as Crown Prince Ozai returned his gaze to her.

"Now… May I have this dance?" he said. "And the following dance, and the one following that?"

Ursa blushed and nodded (a bit too eagerly than she should have, she thought).

"Yes," she said breathlessly, and the smile returned to his face.

"Correct answer," he whispered, and brought her to him again.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Tell me what you think:D Feedback is always appreciated, be it constructive criticism, praise, whatever. I'll try to update every week. :)

_2/5/2007_


	2. II: Fairytale

**The Bear and the Phoenix**  
. helium lost .

**Author's Notes:** Man, you have _no_ clue how many times I tried to start this chapter but had it end up just dying. :( So I apologize for the delay and hope that it's not too cruddy D:

Also, the timeline for this fic will most likely be a bit screwed up. I realized the whole Iroh issue, and NO WORRIES GUYZ, I've gotten that thought out 8D But, like I said, it may require a bit of tweaking with the timeline, but I hope you guys don't mind. D:

Anyway! On with the show :D

* * *

**II**  
_Fairytale_

* * *

Princess Ursa set her chopsticks down and dabbed at her lips, then got up and made a move to leave. 

"Where do you think you're going?" said her mother from the other end of the table. She had one eyebrow raised, her lips in a thin smirk, and her chopsticks still held daintily in one hand. Ursa stopped and turned to look back at her mother quizzically.

"To my room," she said, then took another step, but she heard the sound of her mother _tsk_-ing and knew that she was wagging a finger at her.

"Do you think you can run away from your own sweet mother like that? Come here and tell me about the ball. I've been so busy lately that I didn't get a chance to ask you about it." Her mother grinned slyly. "I heard you danced a lot with Crown Prince Ozai."

Ursa flushed bright red as the memories of the ball—his hand around her waist, her hand clasped in his, as they twirled around the dance floor for what seemed like eternity—flooded her head again. "Oh, you already know," she said quickly. "He asked me to dance; I said yes—mainly to get away from Prince Ruoko, I should think—and we danced. A lot. That's all. Nothing special."

Her mother thoughtfully chewed on a slice of pork, then swallowed. "Rather possessive, isn't he?"

Ursa rolled her eyes. "All the other girls were already taken."

"Not like you weren't," her mother shot back, and Ursa clamped her mouth shut. Her mother took a bite of rice, then continued. "So, tell me—how is he? Does he have a nice voice? Does he have a strong touch? Weak guys aren't good in bed, you know."

Ursa wasn't sure if it were possible that her blush could deepen more. "Mother!"

"I'm simply asking you the most important questions, darling," her mother said before biting into a stalk of celery. "You have _no_ idea how many marriages fall apart because one person or the other is inadequate in bed."

Distant ships off the coast of the South Pole could have probably used her face as a lighthouse by now. "That doesn't even make sense."

Her mother gave her _the look_. "Of course it makes sense. What if the husband's bad in bed? Then the wife will forever be unsatisfied. She'll have all her frustration pent up inside, and then she'll start picking on her husband over the most trivial, asinine things. How many peasant marriages have been annulled over the husband failing to promptly wash dirty dishes? the wife failing to take down drying laundry promptly the next morning? the husband cooking the wife beef and broccoli, as opposed to pork and broccoli? Think about it." She took a sip of wine. "It's not as far-fetched as it may seem."

Ursa rolled her eyes and made for the door again. "I'm going to feed the turtle-ducks."

"Suit yourself," her mother said, taking yet another sip of wine. "But keep in mind what I said. It's all true, you know."

Ursa responded by quickening her pace out the dining room. She made her way through the hallways and out into the courtyard, then seated herself by the lake, leaning against the rough bark of the tree behind her. Naturally, her hair was getting messed up, and little splinters were beginning to cling to her robes, but she didn't quite care. The turtle-ducks quacked as they paddled up to her, expecting her to toss a chunk of bread or some other food to them. Too late, she realized that she had left the dining room in such a rush that she had forgotten to bring anything. She cursed herself softly under her breath and got up again, steadying herself with a palm against the bark.

"Princess Ursa?"

She looked up to see one of the servants with a scroll clutched in his hands. She looked at him quizzically and nodded.

"Yes?"

"A letter was just delivered for you," he said, holding out the scroll. She took it, curious—no one ever wrote to her, of course; most of the letters were addressed to either one of her parents… and when the letter _was_ addressed to her, it was usually some asinine invitation to some asinine party with (most likely asinine) guests that she usually didn't want to attend.

The scroll was bound around the middle with a deep red ribbon, and the ribbon was sealed together with a hardened blob of golden wax that bore the Fire Nation symbol on it. And this only served to further confuse her—the Fire Nation usually wanted little to do with her little province; it wasn't like there was anything interesting here, anyway. She nodded her head and thanked the servant, then worked her fingernail under the wax seal (ignoring the little flecks that got under it) and coaxed it off, letting it fall to the grassy ground.

She scanned the first few lines as she took steps toward the palace, then stopped in her tracks and reread those first few lines. And reread them again.

"Oh, what the…" she said under her breath, then pulled open the scroll more ferociously as she read the entire thing.

_To the Highly Esteemed Princess Ursa:_

_As per request of the Crown Prince himself, you have been invited to join Crown Prince Ozai for an afternoon luncheon this Saturday. This luncheon will be private; please dress formally. There is no need to bring anything but yourself._

_The Crown Prince requests that you do not cancel this luncheon. If there is any conflict with the date of the luncheon, please send a reply as soon as possible, and all possible efforts will be made to reschedule the date at your convenience._

_Attentively Yours,  
Lieutenant Huoko  
Advisor of Foreign Affairs_

Ursa scanned over the scroll one more time, then let it roll shut as she placed a finger on her chin. This Saturday… that would be…

"…_Today_ is Saturday," she realized aloud, then scrambled into the house. Luckily, it was still early… She just narrowly missed colliding into her mother as she dashed through the hallways. Her mother grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back, both eyebrows raised in surprise.

"And where are _you_ going in such a rush?"

Ursa shoved the scroll into her mother's free hand as a reply. Her mother's expression didn't change as she opened the scroll, but as her eyes scanned over the text, her expression visibly changed from one of mild surprise to one of shock to one of pure joy. Her eyes finished reading the last line, and she tossed the scroll up into the air and gave Ursa a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh, Ursa, this is such good news!" her mother squealed, a glimmer in her eyes as a new flush came to her cheeks. "My little baby! The Crown Prince is interested in my little baby!" She twirled Ursa (who had a mildly addled look on her face) around, grinning. "You two will have such cute babies together! I want to name them, okay?"

Ursa sputtered. "It's just a luncheon!" she said indignantly. "It's not like it's a marriage proposal or anything!"

"It's as good as one," her mother said, shrugging. "He's asking you on a _date_, you silly! And one date will lead to another, and then…"

Ursa groaned. "Oh, Mother." She rolled her eyes, then said, "Today's Saturday, isn't it?"

Her mother looked up, pausing to think, before realization dawned on her face. "Why… As a matter of fact, it is!" She hurriedly glanced around. "It's still early in the morning; we still have time! Let's see…" She picked up the scroll from its position on the ground, unfurled it again, and scanned it over once more. "Dress formally… Ohh, if only we'd known about this sooner!" She smacked the palm of her hand with the scroll. "We'll have to get your hair done, your makeup done, and your robes, and…" She frowned. "That'll take at _least_ three hours… And then it'll take another hour or two to get to the Royal Palace… Ohh! If only we'd gotten this invitation yesterday!" She frowned. "And even our fastest hawks probably won't get there on time to change the date."

"We'll manage," Ursa said nonchalantly, then started as her mother grabbed her by the shoulders, a ferocious glint in her eyes.

"Damn right we'll manage," she said, and the ferocious glint melted away again as a look of pure elation took over her face again. "Think of your babies! Ohh, they'll be so _gorgeous_!"

Ursa gagged. "Mother! I'm not ready!"

"You better get ready soon, what with the rate this man is going at!" her mother said, wagging a finger at her. "Now, let's get you ready!" She raised her head, then bellowed in a voice that shook the walls, "Maids! Princess Ursa needs to get ready for a _very important date_! Make it snappy!"

And Ursa hid her blushing face in her hands as the maids popped out from every room and rushed to her side.

* * *

This whole thing was like a dream, really, Ursa thought as she sat in the rocking carriage, alone save for a small box on her lap holding a little historical trinket from her kingdom ("The invitations _always_ say never to bring anything extra, but that's a big, fat lie."). And, somehow, it didn't quite feel _right_—on one end, there was Crown Prince Ozai—wielder of all the power in the land; head of the most rapidly advancing nation in all the lands; heir to the throne and to all the world. His nation was conquering all the others; not too long ago, even the magnificent Southern Water Tribe had fallen under the Fire Nation's power, reduced now to just piles of snow and ice. 

And, on the other hand, there was _her_… Heir to the throne of some little province that no one really cared about, except for their porcelain, which was top-rate; daughter of a quirky and slightly crazy mother and a loving but eternally busy father; sister to a woman who had gotten married off to rule another small province that no one really cared about.

The lurching and rocking of the carriage began to steady themselves as they passed over the paved streets leading up to the palace, and Ursa hesitantly looked outside to see all the peasants milling about the streets. Even the _peasants_ look richer than the ones back home, she realized, and she sat back again.

At first, it had seemed like a good idea—the Crown Prince! Inviting _her_! To a _private_ luncheon! But… now that she thought about it, was she so sure? She bit her lip. What if things were awkward, or if she slipped up and said something wrong, or if…? She shook her head as her mother's reassuring words filled her again with confidence. As long as she was herself, she _should_ be fine… She frowned.

She hoped so, at least.

The carriage came to a stop, and the door beside her opened. She took a deep breath, then stepped out of the carriage, taking care not to trip on her robes. She hesitantly straightened her hair and hoped that her makeup looked decent. Carefully holding the small package in her hands, she strode up to the tall gates that surrounded the palace, which parted as soon as the guards saw her. Never before had she felt so alone and _tiny_ as now, walking up the path to the magnificent doorway of the Royal Palace, passing the walls washed in a deep, earthy red, lined with glittering gold paint.

Servants bowed as she passed them, and one of them walked up to her and took her by the arm.

"Princess Ursa?" he said softly, and her glance was quickly averted from gazing awestruck at the palace to looking at the face of this servant. _Good God,_ she thought, _even the _servants_ here are gorgeous._ Remembering his addressing her, she nodded quickly and took a gulp, cursing herself for being altogether unladylike and, moreso, un-princess-like, if there was such a word.

"Y-Yes," she stammered, and he gave her a soft smile.

"Right this way," he said, holding out a palm with what seemed like a bit too much flourish for her tastes. He gestured to the hallway, and she nodded again. "The Crown Prince is waiting for you."

_Oh God,_ she thought as she was led down the hallway. Moments later, after passing by hallway upon hallway of gorgeous portraits of the ancestors of the Royal Family, she finally emerged—rather surprised—into the open air of the dining room. It wasn't so much a room as it was a raised gazebo. She hadn't been paying attention as she was riding up to the palace, but if she had to hazard a guess, she would say that this gazebo was sitting on an edge of land jutting out from the hill of the main palace (she hoped so, at least; she would probably die of fear if this gazebo were being supported just by some wooden stilts). The archways gave a rich, open view to the city beneath, and she could clearly see all the rooftops; a small flock of birds passed by the arches, and she followed their path, awestruck.

"Take a seat, Princess Ursa."

The smooth, low voice of the Crown Prince jolted her back to her senses. Her eyes widened, and she strode over; the servant followed her and pulled out the chair for her, and she (attempted to) seat herself graciously (but, naturally, caught her robes on the edge of the table, cursed as she quickly parted it from the table with a graceful wave of her hand, then sat down with a gentle, 'how-do-you-do' smile on her face).

"Good afternoon," the Crown Prince said, folding his hands over and resting his chin on them, looking at her with an unfathomable gaze. She immediately felt the blood rushing to her cheeks, then did her best to conceal her blush.

"G-Good afternoon, Prince—Crown Prince Ozai," she stammered in response, and a faint smile touched the corner of his lips. "Thank you for the invitation—I am honored that you have chosen me to dine with you this, er, afternoon."

"My pleasure," he replied. "I hope you don't mind the cuisine I've picked for today—by far my favorite type of Fire Nation food. It's quite spicy."

Princess Ursa's mouth dried (_great, just great, he just _had_ to pick the type of food that I absolutely _detest_…_) as Crown Prince Ozai looked at her, eyebrows raised, as if to say, "You have no choice."

"Oh dear God," she murmured.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, nothing. I absolutely _love_ spicy food," she said with a false, cheery grin on her face as beads of cold sweat dripped down the back of her neck. Her grandfather—the only bender in her family—loved spicy food, and he had tried to force the rest of her family to try it, but they had all run out of the room in search of water, their mouths burning numb. Maybe it was just a bender thing, tolerating this kind of tortuously spicy food…

Princess Ursa sat stiffly as the servants began to lade the detested spicy foods onto her plates. If it weren't for the little peppers dotting the surface of the sauce, the fish would've looked appetizing… And if not for the bell peppers adorning the side of the plate with the glazed chicken lying on top of it… Too late she realized that she was crushing the box that she was holding, and before she could deal any further damage, her arms shot out and held the box out to the Crown Prince (narrowly avoiding dragging the sleeves of her robes in the sauce covering the platter of tofu).

"This is for you," she said in a quick rush of breath. The Crown Prince raised an eyebrow and took the dented box from Princess Ursa's hands. "Um, open it. Please."

Without another word, Crown Prince Ozai carefully undid the box, and out slid a small, porcelain dragon. The Crown Prince examined it, turning it from all angles and observing its smooth surface, the blue patterns adorning it, before saying, "Thank you."

"As you may know," Princess Ursa said in a rush, "my province is very well-known for its porcelain… And that particular specimen has been in our museums for hundreds of years. We felt, however, that it may have more of a place in the vast collections of the Royal Family." She paused, then said quickly, "I know it's not very big or grand or—"

"I love it," Crown Prince Ozai said simply, cutting her off with her mouth half-open. She decided not to pursue the matter any further.

"Now, shall we eat?" he said, placing his hands back into his lap. "Try some of the fish. It's delicious."

"You first," Princess Ursa said nervously. Crown Prince Ozai's eyebrows immediately shot up.

"You dare defy the orders of a prince?"

Princess Ursa waved her hands before her. "No, no, I meant nothing like that! It's just that—"

"I assure you, it's not poisoned," Crown Prince Ozai said, more amused than angered, as Princess Ursa was relieved to notice. "Just try it."

Princess Ursa frowned, gulped, and eyed the glass of water beside her plate. It was far, _far_ too small… She picked up her chopsticks, then hesitantly picked up a tiny piece of fish.

"That's far too small," the Crown Prince commented, and Princess Ursa winced. It was as if this man knew exactly what she was thinking. She frowned again, then took a slightly larger chunk of fish (but only _slightly_ larger). The Crown Prince watched her, amused, and crossed his arms.

"Go on. Try it."

She bit her lip, then put the piece in her mouth and let it touch her tongue.

Immediately, she regretted the action. The fish was spicier than even the fireflakes that her father loved eating (the only spicy thing he could tolerate), and it left her entire mouth burning and numb at the same time. She had never known that such a thing could happen, but, apparently, it could. She gulped down mouthful after mouthful of water, draining the entire cup in seconds and leaving the servant stunned and the Crown Prince struggling to keep back a laugh.

"Tell Iroh that he owes me," Crown Prince Ozai said, motioning to the servant. "I _told_ him that people from the Rong province can't even eat mildly spicy things."

Princess Ursa sputtered in indignation. "You mean to say that you invited me _just for a bet_?"

"I'll have you know," the Crown Prince said with an edge of deadliness to his voice, "that this invitation wasn't _just_ for a bet."

"Oh? Then why did you invite me in the first place, then?"

He raised his eyebrows again. "Learn your place and don't question me."

She opened her mouth to retort, but seeing the grin spreading across his face heartily disturbed her and made her clamp her mouth shut.

"Well, if you really _must_ know, it's because you're quite a lovely lady." He paused, then looked her up and down, taking in the droplets of water that had spilled over onto her robes and the chopsticks still poised in the air. "Despite the fact that you don't act like one sometimes."

She frowned, paused, then said, "I don't know whether to take that as an insult or a compliment."

"Then take it as both."

She opened her mouth to retort again, but found nothing to say. Grumbling under her breath, she stabbed her chopsticks into what little rice there was that was untouched by spicy sauce of some sort and took small bites of it, savoring its plainness. She looked up and caught the Crown Prince's bemused gaze.

"Oh, shut up," she said before she could restrain herself. She clapped a hand over her mouth, fully expecting the Crown Prince to kick her out of the room (most likely through one of the open arches), but his only response was a deep, long laugh that lasted for what seemed like eternity.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** The thing about marriages being broken up over one partner being bad in bed? My mother really did tell me that. Trufax. XDD (Yes, for your information, Ursa's mother's character is based on my own. Because my mom is actually nuts and crazy like that, I tell ya.) 

And that spicy food… Oh, gosh. The Sichuan (often spelled Szechuan or Szechwan in Western terms) cuisine really _is_ like that. It's so spicy that it'll give you tears in your eyes and leave your mouth both burning and numb. (Chinese people even have different categories for spicy. There's spicy that leaves you numb, spicy that's just burning hot, spicy that… you get the point.) So, yeah, since I don't like spicy food, Ursa's reactions are based heavily on my own. XDD

I'm having a lot of fun with this fic. Don't know if it's a good or a bad thing, but my personality is really showing through Ursa, heh.

Anyway, sorry again for the long delay with getting this done x.x; Hopefully the next update will be sooner… but that's not likely, judging by all my AP and IB exams coming up. Curse you, school!

(Reviews are greatly appreciated. 8D)

_4/8/2007_


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